


Waiting Out the Storm

by demi_god_ing



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e16 The Southern Raiders, Extended Scene, F/M, Gen, Missing Scene, could be platonic or romantic you choose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demi_god_ing/pseuds/demi_god_ing
Summary: A moment between Zuko and Katara before the end of The Southern Raiders episode in which Zuko recognizes Katara's strength and she begins to forgive him.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Waiting Out the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been dissatisfied with the end of The Southern Raiders––it's never felt to me like enough actually happens for the Zutara relationship (whether platonic or romantic) by the end of the episode. So I wrote a missing scene. It got angstier than I anticipated.

It wasn’t that Zuko hadn’t always known how powerful she was. He’d seen her bend before, back when he and Uncle were still chasing the Avatar in circles around the world. She hadn’t had much skill back then, but her determination had always been clear, and no one knew better than Zuko how important determination was in learning bending. As he saw her periodically after he and Uncle fled the Fire Nation, he could see her abilities growing. She was young, but outrunning a war for months was having its effect, the way it had had its effect on Zuko. Not only was she improving in her bending itself, but she was learning strategy, when to attack, when to distract, when to flee.

And yet––despite all these collected observations over time, despite all the little details of her improvement he’d noted since the Avatar had taken Zuko on as his firebending teacher, despite seeing her _bloodbend_ earlier––Zuko hadn’t been prepared for this.

Katara lifted her arms, straightened her spine, and the rain just… stopped. The breath whooshed out of Zuko’s nose in a small sound of surprise. He tried to suppress it––he was supposed to be her intimidating back-up after all––but it was impossible not to react. He looked up at the dome of water forming above their heads, the suspended droplets of rain, and tried to think back to the girl on his ship that first time he’d had the Avatar in his possession who had only been able to freeze ice by accident, and in the wrong direction.

Zuko held his breath as Katara flung her arms around her, spinning the dome of water and hurling it towards Yon Rha as it hardened into shards of ice as sharp as Zuko’s twin swords.

She stopped. The icicles hovered in the air, held there by her sheer force of will. And then she released them. Zuko stared as the ice turned back to liquid, dousing Yon Rha in a wave of water. She wasn’t going to do it? Zuko listened as she told her enemy, the man who had murdered her mother, that there was nothing inside him. Zuko watched the muscles of her face, around her mouth and eyes, as they tightened and then relaxed as she told Yon Rha that she hated him but that she just couldn’t kill him.

 _What sort of strength does that take?_ Zuko wondered. He imagined Azula, or his father. They would say it was not strength but weakness. If someone takes something from you, then you take something from them.

 _Revenge would be easier_ , Zuko thought. She would have to live with a lost soul on her shoulders, but at least she’d know her mother was avenged. And yet Katara chose to let this man live.

Zuko followed her back through the rain towards where they’d left Appa in an empty barn. Her hair fell in wet curls down her spine. He’d never seen her pull it back like this before they’d embarked on this mission together. He scrubbed a hand through his own soaking hair and tried to wrap his head around what he’d just witnessed.

They found Appa where they’d left him. The sky bison rumbled a greeting and Katara rubbed a hand along his nose. “We should fly back. I don’t want to leave Aang and the others waiting for too long.”

Zuko peered out at the storm. “Uh. I know you can waterbend us through the rain, but… wouldn’t it be a good idea to wait for the storm to stop?”

Katara looked over her shoulder and glared past him into the rain. She looked exhausted, her skin pulled tight over her bones and bags under her blue eyes. “Fine. If it doesn’t let up in an hour, though, we should go anyways.”

Zuko found some wood in the corner and piled it into a small fire. The logs smoked a bit (there were definitely a couple leaks in the roof, and the wood seemed to have had the unfortunate luck of sitting right beneath one), but Zuko kept the fire up with his bending and a stick he’d found whose end was now blackened. Katara took up position opposite him, still in her sodden clothes, staring at nothing. They sat in a tense silence, but not an uncomfortable one.

“You didn’t kill him,” Zuko said after a while, twisting his wrist to add more flame to their fire.

“No, Zuko,” she snapped, “I didn’t kill him. Are you disappointed?”

Zuko blinked. “No. Should I be? Are you?”

Katara sighed, the sound catching in her throat, and pressed her hands to her eyes. “No. I don’t know.”

They were silent again. Zuko listened to her breaths as they became uneven. She hiccupped and then sucked in more air. He shifted around awkwardly as he realized she was crying. He tried to think of something to say, running through the possibilities in his mind and trying to imagine her reactions. He could ask her… no, no, definitely not. But what about––? The silence stretched on a little too long. Zuko thought that if he wanted to do something, he should have done it by now.

He remembered one night, years ago now, after he’d first been banished. His eye had recently been unbandaged, and the scarring flesh stung as he sat in his bare, metal room on his new ship––his prison––and cried. He missed his bed at the palace. He missed what few friends he’d had. He missed sitting in the garden and feeding the turtleducks, the only time he’d allowed himself to think about his mother. He missed those rare, shining moments when his father had looked at him with approval. He even sort of missed Azula. At least she’d been someone to talk to. Zuko had pressed his fist against his mouth to quiet his sobs, painfully aware of the crew making the rounds just on the other side of the wall.

Uncle had knocked a few moments later, and Zuko had inhaled so fast he’d almost choked. He held his breath, hoping Uncle would go away. But Uncle did not go away. He opened the door anyways, and it shrieked as it swung on its hinges. “Prince Zuko, I wanted––,” Uncle started, and then stopped. Zuko wanted to die. He knew Uncle had noticed he was crying. He wanted to burn his way through this metal ship, all the way down to the ocean floor.

But Uncle didn’t say anything. He stepped into Zuko’s room, closing the door behind him with another screech, and went to sit by Zuko’s side, grunting a bit as he lowered himself to the floor.

Zuko didn’t know how long Uncle had stayed by his side. He didn’t remember the end of that night (he must have fallen asleep eventually, he was sure of it), but he did remember the feeling in his chest as he’d started to cry again, unable to hold it in, and Uncle had remained right there, quiet and steady.

Zuko looked up at Katara, her face turned away from him in an attempt to muffle her crying. He swirled his hand around to add more flame to their fire and then stood. Katara made a choked sound, but he ignored it. He walked to her side and sat cross-legged next to her, only a couple inches between their knees. She peered over at him out of the corner of her eye, but Zuko just used his stick to push one of the logs into a better position.

She cried for a little while longer as Zuko sat next to her. Eventually, her tears subsided. The steady tapping of the rain on the roof began to let up, but Zuko waited for Katara to make the first move.

She took a deep breath, wiping the backs of her hands across her cheeks and under her eyes. “Okay,” she said. Zuko watched as she straightened her spine and pulled her hair out of its low ponytail. The tension seemed to release from her body as her hair sprung loose down her back and around her shoulders. “Okay,” she said again. “We should head back.”

Zuko nodded and stood, bending the fire into nothingness until there was just a pile of smoking embers. He walked to Appa and began to check the saddle, making sure everything was in place as Katara took a few more moments to collect herself.

“Zuko?” she called. He turned to meet her gaze. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, but she looked like herself again, like the Katara he saw around Aang and Sokka and Toph and Suki, who laughed and took care of everyone and made sure they all ate. It was a Katara he’d only seen in glimpses, because when she was around him she was stiff and suspicious and angry. She still didn’t smile at him now, but he could see the possibility of it in the corners of her lips.

“Thanks,” she told him with a little nod.

Zuko felt himself smile and nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”


End file.
